This blog is (mostly) a near-verbatim transcription of my writing journal. Margins are the same as the journal. These are exercises, not finished products. Other types of writings will most likely emerge at some point.

Tuesday, January 18, 2011

Journal 43 - Old Kentucky Winner

(Note: it's been a while. I'm going to try to at least get the rest of the writing journal digitized and posted. I haven't done these exercises in over a year. Fiddling with other stuff - namely a new obsession with photography - but writing will return)

There's the singing of Old Kentucky – before theKentucky Derby – I feel I should be more movedor emotional. I'm distant. Though the ritual feltlike a typical college football event. The announcertalks like an auctioneer – words spoken quicklyand only indeterminately intelligibly. I'd like to bea racing horse though. Or bloodhound dog. Ironicallyor not the people here in the bar have their tiesand their dresses and their hats. How socially aware.Melissa the waitress drags the trash across the floor ofthe bar – but don't tell her I noticed. How un-dorkyish:the drunken souls are gravitating toward the loud spokenTVs. How much do the South Carolinians know aboutthe races? Probably more than my Mississippi ass. Imean seriously – the suits and sundresses areinfiltrating the windy Rooftop bar. Like a spiritedtroop of aristocratic ants. All shiny and curly (andgiggly). Words are sometimes like rain in the middleof June down South. If I don't turn my headtoward the magnetic TV will I be banished andridiculed? Hands are clapping. Oh so serious forsuch a long build up and and ejaculatory shortfinish. Fifty to one it seems is enough to winthe hearts and minds. Fifty to one by a landslide.Or many feet. Bahhh. I'm out of breath but notfrom racing. You can really claim anything whenyou've won. And are a winner. “Of course I knewI would win.” Well I certainly don't. I knownext to nothing – different from Socrates's knowinghis own ignorance. Sea-gulls or something ocean-yshit on me with blessed indifference. I should beshat upon. Like a good citizen of planet Earth. Theeagle shits upon the hare – why not I? Earthis a violent malevolent self-first place of hedonisticexistence – why blame ourselves for doing somethingwrong with global warming? We're evolved ancestorsto chimps – why hold ourselves to higher standards?Survival is equally strong across Darwin's lost species.